


Will you guard, will you keep? Will you watch over please?

by VanityNaylor



Series: Vanity Fest [4]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, F/F, I'm Sorry, This hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 16:53:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanityNaylor/pseuds/VanityNaylor
Summary: Vanity fest day 4 - Angst.





	Will you guard, will you keep? Will you watch over please?

**Author's Note:**

> Please listen to Mrs Brown's Lullaby from the Nanny Mcphee soundtrack before reading.  
> I'm not used to writing angst, so sorry.

Those sitting down to their lunch wanting to catch the headlines sat up a little straighter on the 27th of March. Mothers clutched their children a little closer, others shook their heads sympathetically as a woman sat in that all too familiar position behind an appeal desk. Clutching a dog eared teddy, surrounded by police officers. People all over the country turned up the volume to hear her speak.  
‘Thousands of children go missing each year in the UK. When you see it on the news you feel detached from it. It seems miles away. Like that unthinkable concept would never take over your life, make it impossible to focus on anything other than your child’s safe return. It has been six weeks. Six weeks since our lives were turned upside down. Six weeks since you Johnny my darling boy disappeared without a trace. I can’t put in to words how much we miss you. How much we need you to come back. Whoever you are, whoever has my darling boy I am pleading with you to please just please bring him home.’

-x-

‘Johnny! Come on we’ve got to get back or your mum is going to string me up I swear!’ Charity called across the deserted playground in the direction of the climbing frame. No reply came. For just a moment things were calm. Silent. Then the wind picked up, leaves scattering the tarmac forming a whirling pattern. ‘Johnny mate, come on! I said five minutes.’ She tried again. Still no response. She felt the bile rise in her throat as her legs carried her to the other side of the playground. The shopping bag lay abandoned next to the bench she had been sitting on. ‘Johnny!’ She called once more, to no avail. The climbing frame was empty. The whole playground was lifeless, except for a singular swing being caught in the breeze. Panic. Charity span in a circle looking for some sign of the little boy she had come to see as her own, silently praying he was going to jump out any second and surprise her. Things felt too distant for that however. Too real. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a bright spot of yellow disrupting the green canvas that was the small field outside the fenced off playground.

The gate swung shut with a clatter as Charity sprinted towards the colour. She knew what it was, but she hoped her mind was wrong. A small moan escaped her mouth as she picked up the coloured item. A woollen hat. Sunshine coloured. Just like his mother’s. She brought the hat to her face, breathing in the familiar sent. Spinning around once more for some sort of sign, proof that her gut was lying to her. The proof did not magically appear. Johnny did not jump out and surprise her. She could hear the blood pumping in her head. Her breath became erratic as the panic coursed through her system. She ran. Back to main street Emmerdale. Eyes frantically searching for something. Anything. Her feet carried her to Tug Ghyll, her hands automatically pushed the door open. 

‘Ah good! We were just about to send out a search party weren’t we Moses?’ That blissfully unaware voice snapped Charity out of her daze, the vomit rising in her throat again.  
‘Babe, I-’  
‘Charity?’ The breezy tone the smaller blonde spoke with before dropped at least an octave in pitch. ‘What is it?’ Vanessa’s eyes went wide, as she took in the sight of her dishevelled panic stricken girlfriend. ‘Where’s Johnny?’  
‘He – he-’ Charity tried. She tried to form the words, to tell a mother her child was gone. But she couldn’t.  
‘Charity.’ Her voice was dangerously low.  
‘I don’t know.’ It came out in a whisper, tears accompanying its escape. ‘I don’t know.’  
‘What do you mean you don’t know?’ Vanessa pulled on her shoes, pushing past Charity to run. Charity raced forward scooping Moses onto her hip before sprinting after Vanessa.

‘Johnny!’ Vanessa called, repeatedly up and down the street.  
‘We went to the park, he was adamant he wanted to go down the slide, and he was fine babe I swear it. I didn’t take my eyes off him for a second. He went round the back of the climbing frame for one more go and then I don’t know. I don’t know!’ Charity explained as she ran to keep up with the mother resembling a lioness. A lioness without her cub. The shouts had disturbed the quiet village, locals were exiting their houses to see what all the fuss was about. Soon they too, were out shouting for Johnny. Willing him to return home. They searched for hours, well into the night, joined swiftly by the police. 

Two blonde women sat together, but apart in Tug Ghyll. Two full cups of tea sat on the coffee table. One family support officer sat in the arm chair, watching the pair with sympathetic eyes. One young boy fell asleep alone in the room he normally shared with his brother. A village of people continued the search in hope of finding something. Anything.

-x-

‘If you’re joining us this morning, welcome. As you look at your television screens you will see a picture of Johnny Woodfield. Aged three and a half when that photo was taken. Six months on from what police are describing as the cruel and unbelievable abduction of Johnny, we speak to his mother once more.’ The photo showing such a charmingly happy young boy merged into a shot of a woman. The woman bore a remarkable resemblance to the boy, however there was no innocence in her face. Not a single ounce of happiness to be seen. Gaunt cheeks, with sadness behind the eyes. ‘Vanessa Woodfield is certain her son is out there somewhere, and is once again urging anyone with information on the whereabouts of Johnny to come forward.’

‘My son is still alive. I’m his mother. I know he’s still alive.’ The woman repeated this mantra as she answered the interviewer’s many questions. Another woman stood to the side, watching quietly. She too looked sad. Almost incomplete. She caught the eye of the woman being interviewed and offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. It was not returned.

-x-

‘Has she slept a wink?’  
‘No Faith. None of us have.’  
‘It’s been months love, if there was anything worth finding out there, they’d have found it by now.’  
It was nearing 11 in the morning. Tug Ghyll was alive with people. Curled in an armchair sat Vanessa, hugging her knees, eyes wide. Charity sat near, on the sofa, body angled to be watching her girlfriend at all times. They were waiting for something. Anything. A sign.  
‘Faith, if you’ve got nothing positive to contribute, please shut up.’ Charity’s voice was strained, her eyes glancing to the door every few seconds.

The appeal on morning television had sparked several new lines of inquiry, one of which was being followed in the form of a detailed search. Of the woodland that backed on to Home Farm. Hours passed, with not a whisper of news. People wandered in and out, offering their sympathy and support, the taller blonde kindly thanking those that did, whilst Vanessa just sat and stared. At 7:52 in the evening precisely, the front door opened, allowing an officer to enter.  
‘After an extensive search of the woodland no more evidence has been found. The searching officers have pulled back for now, with the hope of heading out again tomorrow.’ She spoke softly, offering her condolences before leaving once more.

‘Why did she say she was sorry?’ Vanessa’s voice startled Charity. The only person still by her side.  
‘Babe?’  
‘Why did she apologise? He’s not there. That means he’s out there still. He’s alive.’  
Charity closed her eyes, sighing deeply. The scene replaying once more in her head. Every time she shut her eyes, this would happen. She was transported back to that day, six months before. She placed her forehead in her hands as she thought once more. As she regretted the journey they took home once more. As she considered every single ‘what if’ scenario once more.  
‘You don’t believe me.’ It wasn’t a question.  
‘Of course I do babe.’ Charity rose from the sofa, coming to rest on the arm of the patchwork chair. She reached for Vanessa, pulling her tight. ‘Of course I do.’

-x-  
‘It’s been six years, my darling boy. I know you’re out there. I know you are. I love you more and more every day. We just want you home.’  
Two women stood hand in hand, in front of the Emmerdale Village playground. Life continuing around them.  
A mother never gets over losing her child. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since they were taken away. Grief does not expire.  
Two mothers stood hand in hand, in front of the Emmerdale Village playground. Grieving for their lost son. Hoping desperately, hoping tiresomely for something. Anything. A sign that he would one day return.


End file.
